Ghostly Liaison (31 page)

He jerked. “Damn, that feels good.”

She continued her explorations of what he liked and didn’t—and so far he liked everything. Each thrust, rubbing against her sensitive clit, became more urgent than the last. She lost control. Her breath came in gasps and she leaned her head back.

“Oh God, Bridget. You’re so tight.”

The orgasm struck hard and she inhaled for one wicked scream, but Rob was there, covering her mouth with his. She grabbed his shoulders. Dug in her nails. He continued driving into her, prolonging the sweetest orgasm of her entire life. She was still shuddering as he arched his back and cried out. His biceps bulged as he came.

A warm, peaceful feeling settled over her, wrapping her like a soft blanket. Rob was hers. A part of her heart, the other half of her soul. All this time he’d been right there and she’d been so stupid pushing him away. Not anymore. She would never let him go.

Light shone through the small window and left a path across the bed. Rob spooned Bridget as they lay under the sheet, on their left sides, his erection snuggled between her warm legs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well or been so contented.

Still, there was this issue regarding her scars.

He hadn’t seen anything in the dark, but suspected, when she’d tensed, he’d come close to touching them. Since he’d aimed at getting her relaxed and comfortable, he avoided the area. But now that it was morning, he hoped to God she wouldn’t hide them from him. Not that he was obsessed. Far from it. Lord knew he’d acquired enough scars of his own. Somehow he would get her at ease around him, to trust him. To feel safe and know any flaws, scars, or whatever, made no difference. He loved her and nothing would change that.

Bridget stirred and wiggled her butt. “You got a present for me?”

Man, if she kept that up, she’d have a present on her ass. He kissed her temple. “Good morning.”

“Yes, it is.” She pulled the sheet over her shoulder, then turned, facing him. He missed the warmth of her legs, but her grip on his dick more than made up for that. He gasped in pleasure. “You ready for round two?” she asked.

“I’d love to, but I’m fresh out of condoms.” Which was true enough, but not the real reason behind his rejection. Daylight meant Charlie could see them.

“Some Boy Scout you are.” A wicked smile spread across her face. “Well, maybe I can improvise.”

She scooted down his body, keeping the sheet around her shoulders. And while he wouldn’t mind her mouth on his dick, Charlie could be standing right beside them and that thought alone took him to Limp City. Making sure the sheet stayed around her—mustn’t have her flee quite so soon—he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her back up. “Gimme a kiss.”

The radiant smile on her face warmed his heart. “Gladly.”

Her lips were soft and he tried keeping it PG, but who was he kidding? Anytime he kissed her, he grew aroused. Then her breasts pressed into his chest and that was it. Morning wood hell, this went straight to X-rated.

“You sure you don’t want me to take care of it?” She ground her belly against him.

Saying no became difficult. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s just now it’s daylight and well… I’ll feel a little more comfortable at my place, if you know what I mean.”

“Charlie assured me she’s not a peeper, and I got the impression she’d poof out of here at the first sign of a kiss, but I understand. I’m guessing she’s still with Barnaby, though.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

She laughed. “No. Not unless I was alone. But I don’t want to be alone right now.”

She laid her head on his chest and played with his right nipple. As if that would do anything to relieve him of his erection.

He took her hand and brought it up toward his lips, but stopped halfway. Yellowish bruises encompassed her wrist. “What happened here?”

“An error in judgment. Not all ghosts are friendly.”

“A ghost did this? Ghosts can touch you?”

Her eyes widened as if she had said too much. “Umm….”

“Bridget?”

“Oh crap,” she mumbled.

“Did Charlie do this?”

“Oh heavens, no. She’s never hurt me. Not intentionally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She tried to brush off her remark, said her injury came from some crazy ghost of a woman who’d committed suicide, but he wasn’t buying it. Some ghost had hurt her. A ghost. Even saying it a thousand times wouldn’t make it any less bizarre. Could one kill her? Damn. Now why’d he have to go and think that?

“It’s no big deal, okay? Besides Charlie going past her boundaries and landing on me in the middle of the night, I can prevent this from happening again.”

“Bridget, you have to be more careful. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. So quit worrying, okay?” She gave him a peck on the lips, then pulled the sheet tighter around her and slid off the bed. “Want some leftover pizza for breakfast?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there.” He grabbed the sheet and pulled her back. “Do you really need this?”

She scrunched her face and bit her lip.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Bridget, honey. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then lose the sheet.” He tugged at the opening. She resisted. “Please?”

She lowered her head, but stood still. At least she wasn’t running away anymore.

“Bridget. I love you. Nothing will change that.” He stood and kissed her. She melted against him and he slid a hand inside the sheet, caressing her ass. The erection he had sported earlier returned, but this wasn’t about him. She had to know he found her beautiful, regardless what was under the sheet.

And if Charlie was in the room, well, so be it.

* * * *

Bridget loved kissing Rob. Loved how her body tingled and clenched and swooned. She could kiss him forever.

He grabbed her butt, his hand warm and calloused, and pulled her closer. His erection pressed against her belly. Heat radiated from every pore of his body. She ached to wrap her arms around him, but that would require losing the sheet. Her heart beat rapidly. She did trust him. Damn, she loved him. Why was it so hard to let it go?

He pulled away and held her face. His brown eyes beseeched her. “Can you drop it? For me?”

“I…I want to,” she whispered.

He smoothed his hands down to her neck and massaged it. “You know you’ll be more comfortable.”

“I don’t care about my comfort.”

“Yeah, but I do. You gonna hide from me forever?”

She pressed her forehead against his chest and moaned. All she had to do was let go. Let go of her fears. Let go of the sheet.

He rubbed her back. “Never mind, honey. It’s okay. I’m sorry I pushed.”

No, it wasn’t okay. God, she was such a wimp. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the sheet puddled around her feet. The hairs on his chest tickled as she practically melded her body against his. Her heart pounded.

“Mmm, you have a nice ass, but you don’t have to do this. If you need me to close my eyes, let me know.”

He still gave her an out and she nearly took it.

She had acted the same way the first time she’d jumped off the diving board back when she was nine. Standing on the board and staring at the pool below, she’d spent several minutes thinking about all the things that could go wrong. It wasn’t until her father had yelled at her to quit thinking, take a deep breath and jump, that she’d done it. Was that how it would always be? Someone yelling at her to get her butt in gear? Maybe she should start yelling at herself. God, she was such a wimp. No more. She could do this. Maybe.

She took a deep breath. Here went nothing.

She closed her eyes and stepped back and, just to be safe, covered her face with her hands.

Warm hands encompassed her wrists and he pulled her arms down. She kept her eyes shut and lowered her head. Watching his repulsion would have been too much.

“You’re beautiful.”

No, no, no.

“Bridget, look at me.”

No, no, no.

“You scars aren’t any worse than mine.”

“What are you talking about? You only have the one scar.”

“No. I showed you the one scar, but I have more. Didn’t you see them?”

Was he trying to trick her into opening her eyes? His chest was perfect, nicely sculpted with a dusting of dark hair. He showed the makings of a six-pack and a trail of hair leading straight to heaven. And last night she hadn’t felt any scars.

He placed her hand against his skin and the bumpy scar. “You’ve already felt this one.” He lifted her hand to another part of his body. More puckered skin, but longer and thinner than the first. “I did this when I was eleven.”

She opened her eyes. The scar ran the underside of his upper arm. “What happened?”

“Had a fight with a fence. The fence won.” He pointed to his thigh where several older scars crisscrossed. “Had a run-in with a glass door when I was six. Are you disgusted?”

“No. Of course not.”

“How come? They’re scars. I even got one on the back of my other leg.”

“I don’t care about your scars. They aren’t what define you.”

“Thank you.” He leaned over and kissed her and then pulled her left arm out. “These don’t define you, either. Do I wish you weren’t scarred? Sure. That would mean you were never hurt. I don’t like seeing you hurt. But I’m not about to not love you because of them.”

Damn him for using logic on her.

“You do have quite an interesting pattern going here,” he said as he rubbed her upper arm. “Ever think about getting it tattooed?”

She laughed. “You and Charlie are definitely related. She pretty much asked me the same thing. Do you think it would make it look better?”

“I don’t think it looks bad now. But if it’ll make it look better to you, then maybe that’s what you should do.” He pulled her close. “Now, don’t you feel better?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Good. Then get dressed. Because if I have to keep staring at your naked body, I might just explode I want you so bad.” He playfully swatted her behind.

She stared at him. God, she was an idiot. He still desired her—obvious from his erection—regardless of her scars. Probably no more than she desired him. First thing Monday she would call her doctor and get a prescription for birth-control pills. Then maybe they wouldn’t need the stupid condoms.

He pulled on his jeans and zipped up. “Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s have some pizza. Then we can go check on Barnaby.”

Her brain finally came back on line and she rummaged through her dresser, pulling out a long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. She might be able to bare it all to Rob, but the public? Not so much.

She put on a pot of coffee and pulled the box from the fridge. To think she’d almost sent him home with this pizza. So glad she hadn’t. She placed the box on the table and went to take her seat, but he grabbed her around the waist and settled her on his lap.

“I like this. Sleeping with you. Waking up with you. Having breakfast with you. I could get used to this.” He pulled her head down for a kiss. His lips seared hers and a telltale lump formed under her butt.

If only they had another condom. Or two or three. Slowly, she broke the kiss and picked up a slice of pizza. “I wouldn’t exactly call this having breakfast. More like leftovers.”

“You know what I mean.” Rob kissed her temple before reaching for a slice.

She never would have pegged him for a touchy-feely kind of man, and never thought she’d want one, but sitting on his lap felt right.

“I was wondering,” he said. “You say Charlie can be solid when she touches you. Do you think if she wrote a note saying she knew Carl killed Nick, that maybe it would be enough to get the cops interested?”

“Probably not. Where would you have found this note so long after her death? And why wouldn’t she have just told you? I don’t think the police would buy that story.”

“We gotta do something. I don’t think I can go back to work and not hurt him.”

The coffeepot beeped and she gave Rob a brief kiss before leaving the warmth of his lap. After she filled two mugs, she returned with a smile on her face. He was still hard for her. She could get used to this, too. Probably a lot faster without Carl hanging over them like a black cloud. If only…

“What if I flush him out?” she asked. “Tell him I know what he did. Then when he comes after me—”

“No way!” He’d only gotten the mug halfway to his mouth when he dropped it as if the item had become too heavy. Coffee splashed. “I’m not putting you in danger like that.”

She grabbed a napkin and wiped up the mess. “How about I just get him to confess? We could record—”

“No! I don’t want you near the man. You hear me? Dammit, Bridget. I just got you. I don’t want to lose you.” He squeezed her so tight he nearly cracked a rib.

Okay, no more voicing those opinions aloud. She caressed his face and gave him a little kiss. His lips were tight at first, but softened, and he loosened his hold on her. The worry lines still marred his forehead. She needed another plan. “How about Henry?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not putting him in danger, either.”

“Not that. I mean, maybe he remembers if Carl visited the day of Charlie’s death. Maybe he saw him around the house on Friday. If not him, maybe someone else in the neighborhood saw Carl. Maybe all we need is a witness of Carl’s whereabouts.”

Rob rubbed his forehead. “Damn, I wish I had thought of that sooner. Then maybe Barnaby would have been spared.”

“Probably not. You couldn’t have gone to the cops before, but now we have something to report.”

Rob smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I knew there was a reason I loved you so much. I sure hope someone is as nosey as Mr. Murdock.”

“You have a picture of Carl?”

His smile turned mischievous and he smoothed her hair away from her face. His fiery touch branded her soul. “I do. At my house.”

“At your house?” she whispered as she closed her eyes. He continued caressing her cheek and neck, and she could think of nothing but his fingers touching her everywhere. Then it hit her. At his house. The home of his condoms. She snapped her eyes open and stared at his wonderful brown ones. “When do you want to leave?”